Gray watched Killian set himself up at the table with parchment and a quill.

‘We’ll need special forces here,’ he said. ‘More men are on the way, but we’ll need …’

‘More soldiers?’ said Gray. His lips were numb. He could barely stand to talk.

Killian barely shot him a glance. He abandoned his papers at the table and stalked over to his neatly folded clothes by his trunk. ‘Yes. We’ll need them, to get into the tombs -‘

‘You can’t go into the tombs!’

Gray had stood without realising. He swayed.

It was more than not knowing what would happen if Gray broke a promise he’d made to the griffins (disembowelled, probably). Killian was trampling through very old and sacred spaces. Defiling them. Stealing.

It was bad enough that he’d raided their town treasury.

Killian shoved one of his spare undershirts and sleeping shorts at Gray. ‘Shut up. Clean yourself. Then, sleep.’

Gray dropped the clean clothes. His mind was pulled in five different directions, but he was aware, underneath everything, that the prison keys were deep in his pocket, and he couldn’t risk changing clothes and having the keys fall out.

’You’re endangering the people here,’ said Gray. ‘The griffins will return.’

This got no reaction from Killian. At all. He calmly sat back down at the table and took up the quill again.

‘How many of your men did they kill?’ said Gray, pushing his voice louder.

‘Shut up, Gray. Wash. Sleep.’

‘Don’t you need to check on Longwark?’ Gray edged forward. ‘The Ralph kids, you should-’

‘Silence.’

Gray stayed still, his fists curled.

Killian’s dark hair hung in his dark eyes.

Gray clenched his jaw, despair sweeping through him. A crouched predator was lurking behind Killian’s stare. He wasn’t going to back down.

‘You going to pick up my clothes?’ said Killian.

Carefully, Gray stooped to pick up the clothes, grimacing at the pain in his ribs, and he made his way over to Killian’s chest, folding them back up and stacking them back onto Killian’s pile of clothes.

He would’ve loved to change into clean clothes.

To wash, to be dressed in fresh clothing was a dream and it itched at Gray that his sweater and trousers were disgusting.

He could use the wash cloth, at least. Hobbling over to the wash basin, Gray stared longingly at the locked bathroom door, and then wrenched his gaze away, not wanting Killian to catch him. He wouldn’t let Killian see him care.

The filth, the dirt, the grimy clothes.

It didn’t matter.

He started stripping off his torn sweater. He stilled partway, hissing.

‘Shut the fuck up, kid,’ said Killian, over the scratching of his quill, ‘I won’t tell you again.’

Gray wiped guts off his arm in silence. He was fighting fatigue off with every breath.

He cleaned off something black and sticky from his fingernails, his movements getting slower. More clumsy.

Gray pulled his sweater back on.

And slid down to the floor. He breathed slow and heavy, his head bowing lower and lower.

‘Bed.’ Killian’s voice was distant. Gray dimly registered the sound of him rolling up paper, and corking the ink bottle.

Gray cast a slow glance at the huge bed next to him, at Frostvine, peacefully lying on her side with her silvery twists and braids tucked neatly out of her face.

‘Not that bed,’ said Killian. ‘Your bed.’

But, Gray’s bedroll was across the room.

And the carpet underneath him was soft. It was the thickest carpet he’d ever felt.

He needed to get to his bedroll, though. This was important. It was best that he got himself to the bedroll, and lay down, and hid those damn keys, somehow, back underneath …

Gray staggered upright. Stumbled to his bedroll. Collapsed.

The keys were hard underneath his hip.

Someone was peering into his blurring eyes and their warm hand was on his shoulder. ‘Gray?’ The voice was low.

‘Mmm,’ said Gray.

‘What were you doing, before the griffins?’

Gray breathed slow. What had he been doing?

‘You were trying to leave?’ the voice coaxed.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

‘No,’ breathed Gray, folding in on himself. ’I …’

‘You were looking for something?’

‘Yes.’

Gray should be more guarded. He should take care …

‘What were you looking for?’

‘Apple …’

No, said a quiet voice inside Gray’s mind. Sshh. Gray frowned, his eyes impossibly heavy, mad at the quiet voice. It was disrupting the encroaching warmth and stillness.

Silence fell, broken only by Gray’s steady breath. His fingers curled into the bedroll.

The hand was back on his shoulder, its weight reassuring. The low voice continued, ‘You stole the burgfestean jar from the Othoans with Longwark?’

‘No …’

‘He made you hide it?’

‘I …’

‘It’s in the Hall?’

‘He …’

‘Gray. He has a hold on you?’

Blackness was beckoning, warm and still. The gentle voice dissolved.

-

And was replaced by Rowan Conn’s.

‘I’m throwing a party before exams,’ Rowan said, grinning widely. ‘Blow off some steam before the stress begins. You’re invited.’

It was a crystal clear memory, and dazzlingly bright.

Rowan Conn stood with Jude James loitering behind him, his shadow stretching over Gray and Alistair as they sat on the school lawn. Jude James with his perfectly quaffed hair, and Rowan Conn with his eyebrow stud and his beat up leather jacket he always wore, no matter how hot or cold it got.

And - oh boy - the sun was hot. Oppressive. Sweat trickled down the back of Gray’s neck. Dried grass prickled through his clothes. Summer was just around the corner, and the promise of freedom hung in the air.

Gray glanced at Alistair, who was reclined with his hands behind his head, squinting. His school lunch was half eaten, sitting beside him on its brown wrapping. Alistair looked like he wasn’t about to rush into anything - least of all, a party.

His curly hair ruffled in a much needed breeze.

‘Oh, I don’t know, old chap,’ Alistair said. ‘I’ll have to check my schedule.’

‘You want to check your ego, too?’ said Rowan.

A smile crept across Alistair’s face, utterly irrepressible.

‘Your sidekick can come,’ said Rowan, nodding at Gray.

‘His what?’ said Gray.

‘He’s less my sidekick,’ said Alistair, ‘and more the nerd to my jock.’

‘The what?’ said Gray.

‘In a good way,’ said Alistair reassuringly. ‘Studiousness is way too undervalued in our society.’

‘You reckon you could knock up a bunch of snapdragon fireworks?’ said Jude, peering at Gray over Rowan’s shoulder. ‘I got a bunch of fiery snap rocks. You can transform them, right? I’m thinking red and gold, to really spice things up at the party.’

‘That’s why I’m getting an invite,’ said Gray. ‘Knew there had to be a catch.’

‘Can you?’ said Jude eagerly.

‘Yes,’ said Gray, without the slightest hesitation. ‘Yes, I can.’

‘Woah.’ Alistair sat up. ‘Hold on, sidekick. He’s not your alchemy monkey. We haven’t accepted the invite, yet.’

‘Seriously?’ said Rowan. ‘You ditched last time. Rosie and her friends left when you didn’t show. You owe me.’

Alistair let out a theatrical sigh, settling his shoulders back against the grass. ‘Rosie’s her own woman. I don’t dictate what she and her friends do.’

‘Come to the damn party, Ali,’ said Rowan.

‘Are we going to be required to use our party manners?’

Jude peered over Rowan’s shoulder again, and snorted. ‘If you mean shower first and not vomit on his mum’s prized daffodil garden this time, yeah.’

‘That’s a lot to ask,’ Alistair said, ‘but what the hell. We’re in.’ He turned to Gray. ‘Right?’

‘Yeah,’ said Gray with a grin.

Rowan and Alistair did a complicated handshake, and Jude clapped Rowan on his shoulder, steering him away to a group of girls by the school gate - Rosie among them. The sight of her made something twist in Gray’s gut.

Alistair nudged Gray. ‘You know what we should do? Set off firebreath at their party, not snapdragon fireworks. And make the firebreath out-of-this-world big.’

‘Uh.’ Gray winced. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

Alistair hoed into the remains of his lunch. ‘Why not?’

‘Don’t you ever get that little voice in the back of your head? The one that tells you you’re about to get into trouble?’

Alistair stared at him, mid-chew on his sandwich. ‘No.’

‘That checks out,’ Gray said.

Alistair grinned, his black eyes alight. ‘Look, if you’re so worried, we can do something else. Something bigger than snapdragon fireworks. Something that’ll get you noticed. Make the girls look at you. You gotta get over Rosie.’

‘How did this conversation find its way to Rosie?’ said Gray.

‘You got to broaden your social circle,’ said Alistair. ‘Stop being so shy.’

Gray groaned inwardly. ‘Please. No.’

‘There’s always Lily-Anna-’

‘Pfffft,’ said Gray. ‘Lily-Anna’s got way too much taste to go for me.’

‘-Lily-Anna’s little sister,’ finished Alistair, grinning broadly at Gray. ‘You got to stop falling in love with older women.’

‘And women out of my league,’ said Gray, nodding agreeably.

‘Wait, I’ve got it,’ said Alistair, waving his sandwich crust around. ‘You create a diversion at the party, and I’ll set loose a bunch of drake-mites. Chaos. It’s perfect.’

Gray blinked. ‘There’s so much wrong with that I don’t know where to start.’

‘It’s flawless,’ said Alistair, ‘because it’s simple. And because anything’s better than snapdragon fireworks.’

‘Drake-mites?’ said Gray.

’They’re a special breed of mites. They start fires.’

Gray rubbed his neck. ‘I’m not helping you with this. This will make everyone hate us.’

’Small fires,’ said Alistair.

‘You belong in jail. You know that?’

‘No one ever got hurt by a small fire,’ said Alistair.

‘Are you insane?’

Alistair grinned. ‘Oh yeah.’

‘The gods help me.’

‘Fine, have it your way - we’ll stick with the out-of-this-world big firebreath fire. No muss, no fuss, no one gets burnt. Happy?’

Alistair settled his shoulders back on the grass, grinning his lit-from-within grin.

Gray dropped his water flask onto the grass and closed his eyes. ‘This is why I left the law academy brochure on your bed. I hope you applied-’ Gray paused. ‘You’re messing with me?’

‘Whenever I can, yes.’

Gray hit him on the stomach.

Alistair curled away, laughing. ‘Let them have their measly little snapdragon fireworks. Give the ants a show.’

‘OK,’ said Gray.

‘Not a bad plan, though, eh? The firebreath.’

Mentally, Gray searched for something to distract Alistair, because Ali absolutely would think an out-of-this-world big firebreath fire would be a good plan, but he also had the sort of mind that would jump from thing to thing and latch onto another topic easily enough.

‘Did you hear something last night?’ said Gray.

‘Barin snoring?’ said Alistair.

’No - like wailing in the street. It was kind of eerie, honestly.’

Gray plucked a straggling fierilion weed from the grass and shredded it apart. He glanced over his shoulder towards the alchemy lab, in case Longwark appeared to shout at Gray for carelessness with volatile plants.

Alistair checked over his shoulder, too, catching Gray’s nerves, and then shook his head. ‘You know me, I sleep like the dead.’